Abandon Ship

Abandon ship!!

         There was a time when an opportunity arose for me shower in a waterfall. It was a pleasant passing daydream that became overwhelming when I spotted the idyllic scene at the end of a beach in a little town just south of Pt Arena , Cooks beach in Gualala provided  a picture postcard scene, about a ten foot drop the water was running just fast enough and the surrounding rocks left just enough space where I could stand comfortably under the fresh water.
           Kieth Whitney was a tough, mid-western farm boy, who was built like one of those tractors he used to drive who was also a heavy equipment operator and a fabricator and mechanic. Not very articulate, but with a soft heart, and not a little gullible.  He also could be very stubborn in his aw schucks kinda way.  He also was a hoarder and collector.  Where the collector ended and the hoarder began  is any one's guess, but if you need something for you boat or truck, he was my go to guy. I  would not go so far to say we were partners, but he did work for me years later when I was converting my boat the Longfin into a sea urchin dive boat. He migrated into the Sea Urchin business when John Gill recruited him to help him restore the Kimmie Sue named after Johns girl friend at the time.  He basically was the Tender/ Mechanic/ operator for John. Anyone else Tender and fix it man..It just so happen one day Luke Brost asked Kieth to operate his boat while he was on vacation. The "Office" was  a 24 ft Radon well seasoned and I had worked on her before.  We set out of Pt Arena , Me Kieth and Lukes regular dive Bruno.  Bruno was a character,he was the antithesis of your typical urchin diver.  Where most divers had fairly sufficient egos to make competition interesting Bruno was non-chalant and admitted he was not that great of a diver and he really could not stand the daily grind, and the hard work it entailed. He said it was the best way he knew how to make some decent money.  Truth be told he was a fairly decent diver. In fact once you get to a certain point, it is mostly psychology that separates divers. His low key nature was a relief from all the machismo, present among the fleet.
               It was blowing about 25-30 knots as we rounded the point headed south, but you could hide from the weather in the numerous little bays and coves, that were typical along that part of the coast.  Only trouble with that is, that's what everyone else did  so the urchins were becoming scarce in those areas. Kieth was gloating as the skipper, but I still had control of our destination because I was the diver, and of course Bruno was just along for the ride .  At least that's how I saw it.  Well the compressor would not start, so we decided it would be best to tuck into  Gualala  bay and it was idyllic, out of the wind and the rugged cliff shore peppered with redwood trees, made way for the white sand sloping beach.  Picture postcard perfect.  Cant say much for the crews camaraderie though. although Bruno and I got along ok. I had the wheel as we made for the anchorage to work on the compressor.  There were 2 fairly large wash rocks guarding the bay.  The near shore rock was navigable on the shore side, as I seen many boats take that route tide permitting, and that was the shortest route so I headed that direction when Kieth's ego, got the better of him , or me or both and he insisted that we avoid the shore and go around the Outer wash-rock. The bottom meter was not reading anything that might show a sudden rise in the bottom, but Kieth pulled rank as he was technically the operator, and the Bruno remained diplomatically neutral, as it seemed he was enjoying the show. Kieth and I were performing with our overblown egos and stubbornness.  I took one look at that waterfall, then another, and decided that I would never get this opportunity again.  So I stuffed all my clothes in a plastic bag, tied it to a floater and abandon ship.  I made a b-line for the beach, and when I looked back Kieth was in a state of shock, Bruno, could barely hide the grin that was forming on his face.  Kieth's share of my potential catch was forfeit, to the waterfall gods, as I made it to shore and 15 minutes, stripped my wetsuit off.  Buck naked with not a sole around to protest, though I doubt it would of done any good.  I relished the crystal clean cool waterfall.  I allowed the freshwater into all of my orifices with delight, and as my epiphany, subsided I got dressed and hiked up to the general store for a 6 pack.  After I polished off the 6 pack  I packed up my gear as only an urchin diver could and parked on highway 1, hitched out my thumb and hoped a car would stop. Well lo and behold who should come chugging around the bend grinding his gears as he negotiated the sharp curves and inclines highway 1 provided, but our very own truck driver on his way to pick up our urchins.  He recognized me immediately, pulled off and as I threw my gear in the back, I could hardly wait to tell the tale of the waterfall and the wayward diver.  The convenient ride home by the truck driver made a perfect ending to the story.  I did not make any money that day, but I experience something no money could buy.  Utter satisfaction that I turned the tables on Keith and the best shower I have ever had.

The Office With the owner Luke Brost

Murdoch Fortuna and the navy whaler

         There was a time when an investor bought up 3 wooden old navy boats at auction and rounded up some divers he knew, threw together lots of urchin gear Cargo nets,floaters clips and lots of it, and his mission was to provide the processors with sufficient tonnage so he could make some money.
       Jim Stewart was a shrewd business man.  When he recognized an opportunity to make some money, he would act, especially if it involved an aspect that was near and dear to his heart. For instance, Southern California, the ocean , Channel Islands, and fishing.  The Murdoch was a 40 foot plus beast of an old wooden boat.  Another bow-loader and a steering station that had a hatch in the overhead, that the helmsman could poke his head out for better visibility. Now Jim was well into middle-age when he devised this scheme, but he thought it would be a good revenue source for his son, who was having a little trouble finding direction in life. So Jim Jr would skipper the Murdoch which acted as a pick-up boat for the Fortuna and the Navy Whaler. We never really named her, and we really could not put any urchins onboard.  She was only about 26 ft and about 4 ft across but we did rig a compressor with hoses and cargo nets with float balls and a couple anchors.  She had a little three cylinder diesel that ran, we could do about 7 or 8 knots.  Me and little Billy Williams (son of the late Bill Williams that we lost in an earlier story) would fill the cargo nets and then float them on an anchor and the Murdoch would come and pick them up.  In theory...within a day or 2....Sometimes it worked out
      .This is a what the boat looked like before the compressor, hoses, net bags and floaters. Several anchors were necessary for the bags. We did not want to risk tipping it over, so we actually did not load urchins  on her, and she was tippy. Could make about 7 knots
     

       Pat McCallion is a family man, an Irishman and a beast of an urchin diver. He was among the1^st generation pioneers that created the fishery, in California and I learned the two handed picking technique from him that increased my productivity, in a significant way. In his youth he told me a story of how he barely missed making the 1972 Olympic track team as a 880 runner. By the way he picked urchins, one could tell there was a real athlete at his core. He is a generous soul who would always be ready to share a meal and or his home. He was also a skilled poker player, as I found out the hard way while anchored in Pyramid cove San Clemente Island. We were working the pick-up boat, and Pat more times than not cleaned me and the other divers out.

       Pat was an easy going skipper, when he was operating the Fortuna for Jim. Pat led by example, which was refreshing, since I had experienced many up-tight, ego driven skippers, that tended to demotivate me.

      I remember losing a string of net bags, while anchored on the Fortuna. I dont remember how long he was on the wheel searching for them the next day, but it was way longer than I would have lasted. He finally found them and he was my hero from then on. I only was able to pick more weight than Pat one time, when I kicked it into high gear, after snapping out of a love sick depression that kept me on deck of the Fortuna for a week.

      The Fortuna was the main work boat and most of the time she was towing the Navy whaler around untill we anchored up, and then me and little Billy would take off and find our own little spot.  More times than not we would end up just towing our net bags back to the Fortuna so they could load them.  I was ok with that until we started losing nets. The Fortuna was another old Navy, double planked wooden beast of a boat and Jim had the idea to make about 6 diving stations.  There was a nearly rusted out hand railing around the 40ft + vessel, and no anchor winch.  It was a nightmare pulling that hook, we had to have 3 of us up there, and still it was no joke but pull it we did. So 6 divers at times would crowd each other with elbows and assholes jockeying for position to get on the best picking spot. As time went on 5 4 even 3 divers would be left after the rust settled, but Jim always had a spot for any wayward diver that might drift by and he kept the boat full of cheap canned food and beer.  Pat insisted on that. So the operation kept afloat as long as there was supplies and fuel.
      So one day we were exploring the coast in and around Dana pt, and we found a few decent spots but mostly we surveyed for miles before we found any thing and it could get frustrating, but the weather was not always cooperative for the outer islands so we had to do some thing, anyway Billy and I ventured with the Whaler up toward San Clemente Pier and we found a really decent spot we had about 12 net bags and floaters and we filled them up pretty quickly.  It was a classic summer day and the surf was pretty good, threw us around a little on the bottom but at least the visibility stayed ok in the heavy sand and rock bottom.  Well we anchored the whaler with a couple of anchors to be safe, and tied our string of net bag s behind that and decided to swim in for a six pack.  The beach was packed with bikini girls surfers frisbees and dogs, sun burned kids, you name it.  So when 2 divers come swimming in the Lifeguards completely freaked out. They had no idea what we were doing or why.  They cried and said we were too close to the pier and they were worried we might drag anchor, or something. I told them we had two anchors out and I had $1000 dollars worth of sea urchins that I had to call the processor to send the pick up boat because our radio was out. Which was only half true, but sounded good.  I said we would not be long and we were not after I stripped off my top and walked to the liquor store for that 6 pack.  We swam back out. and anchored the nets and headed back toward where we had last seen the Fortuna..  I think the Murdoch finally showed up about 2 days later after the urchins, were almost spoiled in that warm surface water with nothing to eat.
      The climax of the Fortuna saga began outside Pyramid anchorage on the southern and furthest side of San Clemente Island.  The water being so clear it was fairly easy to drop down to 100 + feet, without really realizing it.  The old decompression meters we used back then, were not the best instrument to rely on, to keep track of how saturated with nitrogen a diver would get on deep repetitive dives, but it was all we had back then, and we made the best of it. Generally most divers tried to stay out of decompression diving but inevitably when the money was good, the risks became more "acceptable" There was an older diver aboard the Fortuna, Scott Siebert.  He was a former boat owner and a nice enough fellow, but he pushed the limits, chasing after an old anchor he spotted down in a hole about 125 ft, he said later.  He floated up his prize and climbed aboard,  Well no sooner had he stood up when "WHAM" down he went to the deck.  We assisted him and when we realized he was probably suffering from a cns gas bubble that rendered him numb for a moment.  We told him to go back down immediately and hang off for at least 30 minutes.  He would have none of it.  He ripped off his suit as fast as he could and started drinking, and taking asprin, as he must have had some pain as well.  We all shook are heads, but you cant force someone to accept treatment. We finished up the day unloaded on the pick -up boat and just before we headed to our night anchorage Pat asked Scott if he wanted to go in on the pick-up boat or have us call the Coast Guard.  We could not raise them on the radio way down in that anchorage.  Scott said no he was fine and we anchored up ate dinner, and just before we all started heading for the sack Scott blurts out"I cant pee!!" Well most divers know that that is a classic symptom of decompression sickness.  We were all a bit perturbed at Scott for being so stupid, in the face of permanent injury or worse, and now we had to pull that hook and head out to the point where we could raise the Coast Guard on the radio.

      We finally reached the Coast Guard, and they sent a helicopter out and dropped a rescue swimmer on the Fortuna and the Scot was med-evaced off into the night. but not before he gave me a Billy something that would of been a little embarrassing to explain to the rescue and medical personell, since it was not exactly legal to posses. We made short work of that.
    Fast forward about 1 year.  I was in Pt. Arena at Rollerville campground.  One of only 2 public campgrounds close by.  When Pat  and Jim rolled up on me, while I was cooking at my site with my 65 International  Pick-up ..Stepside.  Equipped with my first Alaskan Camper.  Pat exited Jims Vehicle and he did not appear too happy, as he said I have been looking all over for you.  Then he drove almost 400 miles to hand me a subpoena , compelling me to appear as a witness at a deposition  Scott had sued Jim for negligence  for not making the necessary  repairs and maintenance.
      I felt so sorry for Jim, though his operation did have some substandard equipment, it was totally Scotts fault, what happen to him.  Anyway Jim flew me from San Fransico Airport to LAX and paid for my Hotel and a couple hundred bucks I negotiated, to say just that.  It did no good however Scotts lawyer, twisted the scenario and there was a settlement in Scotts Favor.  Needless to say that was the end of that operation.